


Dr Rima and the Clone Troopers

by Valadilen



Series: Dr Rima and the Clone Troopers [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: 501st Legion - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Order 66
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27084553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valadilen/pseuds/Valadilen
Summary: Rima is no Jedi nor clone. She's a rebellious nautolan not giving a damn about politics, her homeworld, the state of the galaxy. She's a doctor who does her job at the best of her abilities. While she struggles to adjust to her new job as the Chief Medic on the Resolute, the 501st Captain Rost is task to keep an eye on her. By giving the clone this unique mission, General Skywalker thought he would solve two problems at once: keeping a potential danger under control and giving a soldier a second chance. The jedi had no idea how troublesome those two could be.[This is an augmented version of my fanfiction "Dr Rima and the Clone Troopers", posted on Fanfiction.net]
Series: Dr Rima and the Clone Troopers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976734
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue: War for what purpose?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dr Rima and the Clones Troopers](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/702505) by Valadilen (myself). 



> This is an augmented version of my fanfiction "Dr Rima and the Clone Troopers", posted on Fanfiction.net  
> For more, keep an eye on the series "Dr Rima and the Clone Troopers"

There is no grave for the fallen soldiers. Those who are left behind find their body taken by a nature stranger to them; their soul to a force they did not know existed. Some knew but could not understand this. Some did not believe they had souls. Most were oblivious, not believing in old wifes’ tales about being part of a greater life. Wifes, mothers, women in general, were unknown to them too. For those fallen soldiers, the whole world was unfamiliar.

Walking on the battlefield, avoiding the bodies, Rima wondered how the world ended up like this. Someone once told her that war never changes. How could she agree when being surrounded by body parts which once belonged to men created for the sole purpose of war? War stops when the cost of life is too great. Can it cease when both sides use cannon fodders?

She was walking among the dead, once again, but this time there was no purpose. No plan. No respect to pay. There were too many bodies. No grave would be big enough to welcome all of them.

Rima’s eyes found an odd vision. A few meters away, a lek was sticking out of a pile of bodies. It was green, hurt. She came closer. The air filled itself with a familiar emotion. A nautolan, like her, was buried there. The woman freed the person. She knew him. Kit Vataar. A jedi padawan. Dead. Next to the pile, his master, Emelia Taniss, was lying on her front, shot in the back by those she trusted.

A clicking noise, behind her. _Don’t move, my girl_. She thought to herself.

“Don’t move.” He said.

A clone trooper, without a helmet. From the tone, he was probably eleven or twelves years old: first generation. A dying breed. From the accent, she recognised the 501st legion. From the emotion, she recognises _her_ clone.

“I’m no Jedi, Rost.” She said.

“I have orders.”

“I know.” She muttered. “But killing me won’t achieve anything. I’m no Jedi. Never was, never will be. I’ve betrayed no one. Neither the Republic nor the Grand Army. I certainly did not betray you.”

She felt the gun on the back of her head. Her leks were screaming the chemical components of the eminent danger; but also de distress the clone was currently in. His breath was heavy. His heartbeat never reached such speed. His voice never trembled like it was now. But most of all, he never hesitated to pull the trigger before. This was a first.

“Don’t move!” He insisted, making his way into a panic attack.

“I’m not moving.” She said, calmly.

There was a long silence where Rima waited, her eyes open, for Rost to take action.

Seven hours earlier, an order was given to the clones. They attacked the Jedis, and spared none. As Rima was gathering her things to start her round at the military hospital, she found out that her name was on the list of today’s those sentenced to death. A mistake perhaps? Rost was given the privilege to kill her. She fled long enough for the battle to end. The clone chased her relentlessly. Now, both were tired to run.

“May I say my last prayer?” She wondered.

“You’re not the religious type.” Growled Rost, trying to focus.

“One does not need to be religious to hope for a better life, somewhere, sometime.”

He did not reply, but did not pull the trigger either. Rima was not much of a poet. Her knowledge in the art of words was, despite everything, relatively limited. Yet, there were a few lines she had learned many years ago that came back to mind. She could not remember anything else but this:

“ _Theirs not to make reply”_ she said, slowly.

“ _Theirs not to reason why,_

_Theirs but to do and die:_

_Into the Valley of Death,_

_Rode the six hundred.”_ ****

Silence.

Fitting poem for the situation. Clones bred to kill, to wage war and to die for next to nothing. Rost told Rima many times that he was fighting for the Republic, for Freedom, for Peace. Yet, Rima never truly knew the reason for this war. Why the battles? Why the clones? No one once said as a public announcement: “We are at war with the separatists” then named a terrible diplomatic incident that set the bushes on fire. The Jedis were fighting for Peace. Good for them, but what of it? Did they achieve their goals? Given the current situation: not even remotely. All those deaths and for what? More deaths. 

“Soldiers are not evil by nature." She said. "Most of them are good people. But sometimes good men follow bad orders.”


	2. Meeting the clones... and being disapointed

« Move ! » She shouted.

The clones immediately obeyed, although they did not know why or to who. The young woman knelt next to the wounded soldier and ran her first test. She asked questions, fast. She was given answers, fast. She expected them to obey; the situation did not give them a choice.

The soldier lying in front of her was suffering from bullet wounds in the right shoulder, stomach, right side of the abdomen, left upper leg and left foot. His head hit the ground from the fall, fortunately his helmet took most of the damage. Yet the violence was extreme and there was probably a concussion waiting to be difficult. The man was bleeding heavily. 

The woman gave her orders: take off the armor, prepare blood transfusion, the painkillers better be ready… the clones did not know what else they could do, so they obeyed. They were good at doing that.

A clone arrived, blue stripes on his white and black armor.

"Field Medic Six." He said. "I got this one."

"Obviously, you don't." The woman said.

A bad feeling crept in the back of her head. The pulse! Gone!

"Make room!"

Taking the armor off, the woman asked for no one’s opinion nor permission. She started the cardio-pulmonary resuscitation.

"Prepare to shock him!" She ordered. "Come on, humans! You're meant to fight, so do it!"

One of the clones was ready. Everybody stepped back. Shock. Didn't work. Again. The woman kept hammering the chest with a strength no one expected her to have. Suddenly, the wounded clone took a deep breath. The woman started the emergency treatment again.

"Come on! We don't have time!" She shouted at the two clones bringing the stretcher. "Unless you want another dead brother, you'll hurry!"

She could feel eyes on her. She was making a scene. Coming out of nowhere to help a clone survive his wounds in the middle of a republic medical emergencies base, without being invited. She didn't care if she was currently sitting in a cell or in the Senate. She did her job. Helping other soldiers, some medics tried to get her out of it. Without success: she was efficient. 

Later, she heard the first clone she treated had survived. She was glad, but a doctor's mission is never truly complete. There will always be injuries, always be illnesses… Especially with this war. 

She didn't believe there was a war going on until the droids showed up and started to shoot everyone. Then the republic battleships arrived, the clones cleaned up the enemy… She heard, of course, of the clone army. But to see these men in action… 

That was something completely different.

It changed everything.

***

The interrogation room's doors opened. Two men and a clone in full armor came in. The men and the girl were, what the woman heard, to be "Jedis". In this part of the galaxy, there were not a lot of them. To see three of them in one day… Quite the achievement, indeed.

"I am Master Windu of the Jedi Council. This is Master Kenobi and Padawan Ahsoka." The black skin human said. "We would like to know who you are."

"What about him? He doesn't count?" the woman said, pointing at the clone standing next to the door.

"This is Commander Cody." Master Kenobi answered. "You are, obviously a Nautolan…"

"The head tentacles give it away, hum?" The woman sighed, cutting the man mid-sentence.

A child could have guessed that. Was this Jedi making fun of her or was he truly that innocent? If he was… well… Isn't he precious. 

Anyway, it was hard to hide her big black eyes, her massive, highly sensitive leks on her head and her grey skin with white luminous dots.

"My name is Rima." She said. " I was living on the planet you and your metal friends just ruined. I was the town's medic, still am in a way. But with no one to heal and no town to live in, the title sounds a bit hollow."

"We received reports from one of our field medics." Master Kenobi said. "He claimed you handled the life of Captain Rost competently, given the circumstances. You aslo saved a dozen lives in only twenty minutes."

"Where did you learn to deal with situations like that?" Windu asked.

"War of course. It is not because there aren't galactic wars every centuries that war doesn't exist at all. Some years ago, the planet got divided in four. Three countries fighting each other for land, and all the rest trying to survive. I was with these poor sods. Delivering children while patching up a half-dead man is what I do. And if my people follow orders, they might just survive the next wave of cold too."

The two Jedis looked at each other. Master Windu stood up and left.

"Where is he going?" Rima wondered, slightly anxious.

"I may have a proposition for you, Dr Rima." Master Kenobi said, ignoring her question. "The man you saved, Captain Rost, belongs to the 501st Legion; under the command of Master Anakin Skywalker. His men could use a field medic with your exceptional skills."

Rima looked at him carefully. The woman could not figure the man's thoughts, and it bothered her. Was he being honest or was he planning something shifty? If he did, why would he bother to trick her? On a galactic scale, she was a nobody. What should she do? The Jedi assured her they would let her go to wherever she wanted, and not bother her any further, if it was her wish. However, Rima had not only a sacred mission, but also nowhere to go. Her town was no more. The planet was too damaged to stay and hope to survive. Only the natives would want to stay; and they did not like strangers like her. Long ago, Rima made an oath to protect the ones who needed her skills. Injuries, pregnancy, sickness, poison, gun wounds… She could help with all of these things...! Not that an army made of human males needs a midwife anytime soon. What worried her was how clueless the boys she met on the field were when it came to heal injuries in a hurry without fancy equipment. The heart of this Captain Rost stopped, and she alone knew, in a split second, what to do. That was not a reassuring observation. Between the separatists and the Republic, Rima had a preference for the latter, even if she did not trust any of its representatives. 

"You want me to work for your jedi friend, when you know nothing of me?" Rima asked. "Is that wise?"

"Doctor Rima of a city named "Raykar". Saved three thousand, nine hundred and fifty-five lives during the civil war on this planet; delivered four hundred children after the war, helped countless lives survive the cold wave last year…"

"You know more than you admitted, Jedi."

"I just asked around. You're not the only survivor. And the ones who don't know you personally, know you by name. You are a war hero."

"War and heroes don’t mix.” She said. “One that takes part in slaughters cannot be called a hero. Look what good my efforts did. War.  _ Again _ . Besides, if your men are all males, I don't think you need someone like me. Also, I’ll not risk my safety for them."

"I understand. But I need someone who values life.” Kenobi replied. “Too many of the clones think of themselves as expendables. Too many of my brothers and sisters in the Order treats them as such. I know I used too."

"What made you change?"

"A brutal battle. The loss we suffered almost cost us a key-planet in Republic Space. But that's not the reason. Before being slaughtered by the droids, I did not think that we might not survive this war. So, I swore to myself I'll do what is necessary to give those men a fighting chance. My troops will have the medics they need; but Anakin as a knack for getting his men in trouble."

Rima could not sense any lies. If he was indeed lying, he was damn good at hiding it. The woman leaned on the table to observe Commander Cody. Could she work with people all sharing the same face? People who were born to fight – and die? People who knew nothing else but the army and the war? At least she won't have to worry about them following orders: they were bred for doing just that.

"If I was to accept your proposition, what would my mission be?"

"We won't put you in immediate danger: a medic like you needs to stay alive. You will be assigned to a war ship's medical bay. If not, to a medical station under my apprentice protection. Either way, your job won't be an easy one."

"With respect, if either of us wanted easy lives, neither of us would be sitting here." Rima replied. "Where's the contract? "


	3. Getting started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rima starts her new contract as a civilian doctor in the 501st Legion of the Grand Army of the Republic. Although anxious to get started, her first impression of the legion is not the best one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some descriptions may be disturbing.

The Legions led by Kenobi and Skywalker met not far from the ruined planet Rima used to live on. She was immediately transferred to the Resolute, the Commanding-Ship of the 501st Legion. 

The Republic spared no expenses: the Resolute had a-state-of-the-art med-bay. On the planet she was living on, the civil war turned her clinic into a run-down shack, this was an improvement. She had a small army of droids and clone medics under her command to help her in her mission. And the equipment… all the spirits be praised! This equipment was  _ sexy _ ! Modern, high-tech but accessible… Perfection. Expensive too. Very expensive. If only she had that set of medical materials during the civil war, Rima could have done miracles!

Unfortunately, the nautolan could not drool on it for long. The tour of the ship was quick and limited. The Padawan Commander Ahsoka gave her all the information with celerity; then sent her all the military and emergencies protocols. Before she could take command of the ship’s hospital, she had to learn all of them in less than two days.

During those two days when the Resolute flew to Corusent for shore leave, Rima made the displeasing news that there was no room for her. Despite the dead left on the planet or in a hangar; the General gave no orders regarding her lodging. Thus, the clones gave her nothing. Ahsoka tried to talk to her master, but Skywalker had other things on his mind.

Fortunately, Rima was a creature of adaptation. She grabbed in the storage room a blanket, a pillow, spare clothes (too big for her since it was meant for the clones) then settled in one of the meeting rooms; denying access to anyone. When it came to hygiene, the clones turned white as a sheet, then red as a poppy, when they witnessed the nautolan woman sharing the showers with them. Three years of malnutrition made her abnormally thin, but her forms were normally generous; and it showed. After the shower (when no one dared to look at her) Rima’s skin looked a bit healthier. Without being a top-model, Rima was beautiful. 

The same surprise from the clones could be witnessed wherever she went: bathroom, cantine, hospital, meeting rooms… Even the man on the deck in Coruscant looked at her as if she was a ghost. 

She was sent into a hotel where she would live until called by the Army. The day after, a clone trooper came for a medical exam. He drove her to the city-planet’s main hospital where a woman made her do all sorts of exams: sight, hearing, mobility, brain fonctions, blood test, cardiac exercise, blood pressure, urinalysis, radios, MRI…  _ everything _ . The army was not joking about being in physical shape. The results came as expected: Rima needed to gain thirty kilograms before being considered on “top-shape” for a female nautolan, working as a civilian doctor on a military ship. At the end of the exams, Rima found out that Skywalker and Tano were waiting for her. Inviting her to eat at the Jedi Temple’s restaurant, then admitted not giving the doctor the care she needed while on the Resolute. Paying that no mind, Rima was more curious about everything else: the organisation, relationship between soldiers and Jedi, the dynamic in the 501st Legion. Skywalker left ten minutes after they sat down: Senatress Amidala called for him. Ahsoka was not happy to be left behind, but the idea of giving the new crewmate some pointers occupied her mind quickly. The padawan answered questions regarding regulations, the contract and her own presence in the legion.

“Aren’t you a bit young to fight in a war?”

“War or not, I would be facing danger regardless, for my apprenticeship.” The togruta said.

This answer was not satisfactory, but Rima did not think she could have better. She dropped the matter entirely.

“It’s rare to see a lone nautolan.” Ahsoka said after a long moment of quiet. “How did you end up on that planet?”

Good question. Rima was not in the disposition to give the girl an honest answer. On the other hand, why should she care about what the young Jedi thought of her? 

“I was born on Glee Anselm, like any “true nautolan”. I had a disagreement with my people, thus it’s best if I remain far away from home. Less of an embarrassment that way.”

“So you went to the other side of the Galaxy to avoid a family dispute?”

Rima looked at the girl, thinking that she still had a lot to learn. Nautolans from Glee Anselm do not have “families” , they have “clans” whose elder members decide everything about the youngests’ lives; which includes the infamous marriage dilemma. Even so arranged marriage is illegal, the system is made in such a way that it’s impossible to prove an “illegal marriage”. Rima, like all young, was to marry a boy from another noble family. She declined the honor, thus staying away from everything related to Glee Anselm, nautolans and politics. However, the woman did not have the patience to explain all that to the thirteen years old togruta living in a temple for the last ten years. 

A week later, Rima was ready to go, and so was the 501st Legion. With fresh troops from Kamino and two brand-new cruisers to escort the Resolute, the legion could depart from Coruscent. Since all was a "beginning", neither the three ships needed a medic right away.  Even if they did, the clones would have not come to Rima first. Indeed, she agreed to be a medic, but after understanding what being chief in the military was, declined all responsibility as a leader of men. Ordering people around was good in emergencies; however the paperwork a commander had to fill everyday was insane: Rima had no patience for this. As such, the Chief-Medic "Stitch" kept his job. This decision seemed to please everyone (especially Stitch, but who could blame him?) and the soldiers seemed to prefer having one of their own at the head of the hospital.  _ That _ however was slightly odd. From what Rima had heard, clones might not like something, but don’t complain. In this case, there were apparently some concerns voiced. No one cared to tell the nautolan any precision. The clones were far more suspicious than General Kenobi told her. Will it be a problem? Rima could not say. Perhaps it was like the anooba who lost its way in her town so many years ago. Someone brought him from Tatooine to sell him to a local aristocrat. But the buyer could not tame the beast, so he released it in the wild. The poor thing found its way to the town, almost crippling a boy. That's when the local hunter came in. Gave food. He taught the poor animal to trust him. They became best friends, never apart from one another for too long. They got separated when the droids attacked… the human got killed. It was messy, quite an horrible sight. The bomb hit the house he and his friends were hiding in. His skull got crushed by debris, brains spilled everywhere. But the killing blow was definitely when a shard of metal cut him in two, right in the middle of the belly. His guts bloodied everything and everyone around… not that anyone survived the explosion. Rima had to stick her hands in his crap and insides to collect usable organs… she hated it all. Using an old friend's dead body to save others, to have to acknowledge his horrible death… As a response, the anooka attacked the droids. The people said it was to avenge his master. But Rima though differently. She saw the beast's attack. It was desperate; the poor thing was just mad.

Rima blinked, then took a deep breath. she honestly thought this was behind her. Apparently, there were lingering effects of the war she needed to deal with. Her wounded mind turned toward work. Sharing her room with Ahsoka, the doctor tried not to make too much noise when she left in the middle of the night circle. She went to the cantine with datapads. She had studied the clone anatomy closely. Similar to humans, there were differences such as the normal levels and grades: body mass, blood pressure, rate of blood cells, rate of calories used in rest and during traumatic-type physical experience (a battle for exemple)... And those were the easy ones to remember. She also needed to study the reality of life in the army. Looking at the casualties report, it was easy to understand that most of those men would not get to their normal life span: thirty-four years old at best. Their excessive ability to age was marvelous for warlords; not so much for nature. Then again, Rima could only guess what would happen to “old clones”, since the eldest had not yet reached twelve years old. 

She drank a large cup of coffee. Some clones were there, eating and resting. If some paid her no mind; most looked at her closely. Rima could recognise the unmistakable signs of a bad reputation made behind her back. Someone was being naughty. She sighed, suddenly missing the civil war on her planet. At least there no one cared to give her a bad reputation based on her looks.


	4. Fishy Stitches

The way Rima understood it, the 501st Legion was deployed to settle "negotiations" with an enemy blockade somewhere in that huge galaxy. However, rumours were not of the best kind, trouble might be waiting for them long before they could reach the rendezvous point with General Kenobi's fleet.

The first hour of the day circle had not rang yet went a clone knocked on Rima's door. The woman wanted to send him away, but all her attempts sounded more like sleepy growls than real orders. So, she forced herself to get up, did not care to put her uniform on and open the door in loose pants and a looser shirt. The poor clone froze at the sight. Was it horror or arousal? The redness of his cheeks suggested the latter. 

"Urgent meeting with all medical units in the Med-Bay, Sir… Madam." He said. "Chief-Medic Stitch has been calling you for an hour."

"Pardon?" She growled. 

Rima went back to her room and activated her com-link.

"Doctor Rima, you are requested at the Med-bay immediately for a pre-mission meeting." The hologram of a clone in a medic uniform said.

The poor man sent eleven messages, getting anxiously angrier each time. Although his emotions were well hidden.

"Shit."

Rima jumped in her uniform and ran as fast as she could.

"Lock my quarters, please!" She shouted at the clone as she turned around the corner.

Rima ran for her life many times; but she never was so anxious to get somewhere. Her first day of service and she was late.  _ Late _ . To a military meeting. For medic, true, but still. She was pretty sure the clones were not used to tardiness… or even knew what "oversleep" meant. She rushed in an elevator before clones closed the doors. She looked at the numbers as if it would make them go down faster. She must have looked like a storm to the poor troopers who just saw her rush out when the doors opened. She ran to the med-bay, nearly knocked down a clone in the process of leaving and went directly to the meeting room while finishing to adjust her uniform and putting her leks right.

The room was basically a clone talking to others. Three lines of chairs full of clones in the exact same uniforms. Only the Chief-Medic "Stitch" was a bit different… and was being true to his name: his face was covered with scars. He ended his sentence and looked up at Rima. She bowed her head, showing some level of respect.

"Please accept my apologies for my tardiness… Sir." She said, not exactly sure how to call him.

He outranked her, but she never was in the army before. The whole title thing was not familiar. Also, she was the only unique living being in the room too: if she wasn't nervous before, she was now. Quietly, she sat on the only empty chair, the last in line near the double door. The clone next to her was trying to ignore her; but failed miserably.

"The commander Rex gave us the report on what to expect in these coming hours. We’ll be in a space battle with three enemy cruisers minimum. We must expect enemy reinforcements; thus a lot of casualties. If our cruiser survives, which it will, our mission will be to handle all the injured coming our way; and send the ones who can fight back to their posts. I want this mission clean and proper. Do your job fast, do it properly, be professional."

The Chief-Medic stressed the last word while looking at Rima. She took no offence: in fact, she felt she deserved it. But the nautolan also had in mind to prove she was not a waste of time nor resources.

The meeting ended with Chief-Medic Stitch giving everybody's duties. That turned out to be the punishment.

Rima walked empty mind to the main healing room. She could barely believe what just happened.  _ Nurse Duty?  _ She thought. There was nothing wrong with the profession itself, but it was exactly that: a profession. People were specialised in caring with patience every-day basic needs. Rima was not. That was the reason there were droids in all medical facilities in the Republic: so someone could do it if nurses were absent.  _ They  _ were meant to do that… Also, General Kenobi hired her to put her medical skills in good use: setting bones back in place, surgically removing shrapnel shards, healing infected flesh... not feeding, cleaning or policing the patients. But Rima swallowed her pride. She was obviously an intruder here. 

Her "office" was a computer in the wall, between a bed and a medicine cabinet. She could stay on her feet or lean on what appeared to be a high stool. But the thing was too tall for her, obviously designed for a clone-height professional. They were a hundred-and-eighty-three centimetre tall; according to the medical records Rima could access to. She was only a hundred-and-sixty-five. That small detail did not make her feel any better. 

Both clones and droids were in standby, occupying themselves as they could, until the battle started. As Rima observed her new co-workers, she could feel the anxiety making knots in her stomach. Last time she waited for a battle to come, two hundred refugees died because of the bombs. A hundred more were caught in the fights and killed by soldiers. The current situation was different, though. She was on a war ship, full of soldiers. If anyone could make it work, it was these clones and their jedi officers.

At least… she hoped so.

"Medic Rima."

It was Chief-medic Stitch. He was displeased. He did not hide it.

"Good morning, Chief." Rima said. "I apologize for my tardiness once again."

"Apologies refused. You are on a warship, there is no place for tourists here."

"Believe me, sir, that if I was a tourist, your very existence would be a miracle."

"Excuse me?"

Rima smiled and turned around, suddenly more interested by the list of equipment on her computer. She did not seek to get her boss angry, but she was not going to let him bully her. Because that's exactly what he was here for. Anybody would accept her first apologies in the meeting room, give her an assignment and move on. However, the clone came back. The heinous way he looked at Rima could not be justified by her tardiness. The bad reputation that made people whisper in her back came from someone. The nautolan was ready to bet on Stitches. 

"If I was a tourist, this would not be a warship, since there would be no war. Meaning the Republic would have not the need of clone troopers. Which you are." She said.

"Are you being insolent?"

"Of course. But you are being a bully." Rima replied. "It may work on your brothers, but it won't on me."

"I outrank you!"

"Good for you." Rima said, as she moved on to the many medical records she had yet to read. "But the fact that you needed to tell me that speaks loudly of your poor leading abilities."

"Is this a test?"

"Damn right it is." Rima replied, pretending not to pay much attention to the clone. "Unlike you, I chose to be here. It is only natural to evaluate both my boss and my co-workers. Now if you don't mind, I have a job to do; so do you."

Everybody in the room -even the droids- held their breath while she talked. Not a sound interrupted the heavy tension growing out of the Chief-Medic Stitch. Although she would have loved to hear him complain, just to see how a angry clone looks like, Stitch was not stupid. He left, giving to one his brother an order about keeping his spotless work station clean. An age-old technique to fake authority. 

Although the encounter was entertaining, something was wrong. The nautolan could not, obviously, know everything about the clones just yet. Still, she met quite a few of them. They had many emotions from surprise to distrust; but never hatred. Stitches hated Rima. Why? They barely knew each other. Was it professional jealousy? Rima should have taken his place as Chief Medic; but declined the position. Even so, he should simply count his blessings and move on. Why keeping the attitude? True, her little show of authority gave him a reason to hate her now; but he decided to despise her the moment she set foot in the meeting room. If anything, Rima felt something fishy was going on. It was beyond giving her a bad name. 

**Author's Note:**

> Extract of the poem: "The charge of the Light Brigade", by Alfred Lord Tennyson


End file.
